


Teacups and Teadances

by Basmathgirl



Series: The Peter Chronicles [4]
Category: Doctor Who (2005), Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Crossover Pairings, F/M, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-21
Updated: 2012-12-21
Packaged: 2017-11-21 20:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/601567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basmathgirl/pseuds/Basmathgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is set pre PiC for Donna, and post JE for the Doctor. For Peter it is pre and post Fright Night. Donna has gone investigating with Peter whilst looking for the Doctor; and they both got an unpleasant surprise that left them reeling. This is a sequel to <b>Doctor In Cloverfield</b>, so it helps to read that first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teacups and Teadances

**Author's Note:**

> This features Peter Vincent from Fright Night, so you’ll know exactly what to expect. If not, there is swearing; a lot!   
> When I wrote this I hoped to own the DVD of Fright Night very soon; otherwise nothing here is mine.

The Doctor had followed Peter, of course; had watched him demand entrance to the motel room, and had seen Donna’s pinched, concerned face as she had wrestled with how to deal with Peter’s anger. He hadn’t wanted to get Peter so angry. Blimey, the bloke treated it like a national sport! But we’re talking about Donna’s safety here. So he hovered near the closed door, monitoring the shouting. He would have intervened but Peter stopping her racing out to him almost broke his hearts. Was it wrong of him to hope she would succeed; just for a split second?

And then he had heard her crying and then saw Peter march out to his car. He genuinely thought Peter was going to abandon her in this desolate place; but he didn’t. What he did instead really shook the Doctor. Peter had laid his head on the steering wheel and cried too.

That was it! He had to walk away from his pain. It was all crystal clear to him now why Donna was so adamant about being friends only, why she had shrieked everytime he did any action that was remotely inappropriate. He had mistakenly thought she was being prudish; but she wasn’t. She was holding herself back because of Peter; had been holding back because of a broken heart. Well, he had guessed something of the sort had happened at some point, but to suddenly find out how close it had been to them meeting at Adipose Industries… It was tragic!

Torn between going to either of them he did the next best thing, and went home to the TARDIS.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Donna stormed out of the room in a fit of pique. How dare he just bugger off like that! How dare he!! Who exactly did he think he was dealing with here? She had her mouth open to yell good and loud when she realised Peter’s car was sitting there in the parking lot. He hadn’t gone!

Instead, Peter was slumped over the steering wheel; so she tapped on the window. ‘Are you alright?’ she mouthed at him.

“What?” he demanded and wound the window down. “What did you say?”

“I said ‘are you alright?’” she repeated.

“Obviously I fucking well am not!” he retorted snippily.

The evidence of that was in his wet bloodshot eyes, but she decided not mention the fact. “So why didn’t you leave? This does rather beg the question,” she pointed out. “And why are we discussing this for all the world to hear out here instead of going back inside?”

“Fine!” he huffed, and climbed out of the car; slamming the door shut as a sign of protest. “We’ll pretend we are fucking civilised and talk inside.”

“Too right we are civilised. I am; you can be different if you want,” she offered, going in and sitting on the bed.

Peter sat himself on the only chair in the room. He’d been tempted to sit on the bed too, but that would mean he had forgiven her and he wasn’t sure about that yet. “Go on then; I’m all ears,” he said.

He fought off a smirk when she deliberately examined his ears. “I’m going to be absolutely honest with you,” she began. “I didn’t realise you looked anything like the Doctor until first thing this morning.”

“Who do you fucking take me for?!” He almost leapt up out of the chair in his indignation. “You must think I was born yester… Hang on… This morning?! So you did it with me not knowing, and then knowing?” he quizzed her, in wide-eyed astonishment. 

She nodded back at him. “Yeah, I did!”

He began pacing again. “But if you realised, then… why?” He stood still and fixed her with his gaze. “Why, when you should have stopped?” he asked softly.

She reached out and caught hold of his hand, “Why do you think, you prawn?! Can’t I fancy you two days running? You didn’t seem to have any problem fancying me!”

“Pfft! That was different! You’re all…” He swept his eyes down her body in emphasis, and swallowed deeply before adding, “…Sexy and curvy.”

Laughter pealed out from her. “Sexy? Are you sure? ‘Cos if anyone is sexy around here, it’s you.”

“Are we really having an argument over who is the fucking sexiest here?” he asked her incredulously.

“No, because we already are in agreement,” she said, drawing herself up to stand with him. Releasing his hand, she smoothed her way up his arms, across his shoulders and then up his neck and into his hair. “Black nail varnish wins every time,” she whispered next to his lips, and pressed her body closer.

He let out a delighted chuckle, and wrapped himself around her body as he claimed her lips with his own. “Come back with me,” he murmured next to her skin.

“How else would I get home?” she asked him, pretending it was a different request. “Of course I’ll go back with you. What do you want me to do with the time we’ve got left?”

He laughed saucily at her. “If you can’t fucking guess that, then there’s no hope for you!”

“Then we’d better hurry up and check out of here,” she whispered; and hungrily kissed him again

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

“It really is weird being in a desert,” she commented as she gazed out of the car window. “How do you cope not being able to see green grass and trees all the time?”

“It’s not that lacking in greenery, for fuck’s sake, in Vegas!” he protested as he defended the place. “Not that I see much of the day anyway. I tend to live during the night.”

She smirked. “Yeah! I had noticed that. I suppose you are hoping to fend off all the vampires that way,” she joked.

“Don’t even fucking go there,” he warned sternly.

“Oh!” she responded; and thought seriously about it. People don’t tend to believe in something like vampires unless they have a reason, and as a magician he’d know what to dismiss as hokum. Strangely enough he hadn’t mentioned any family whatsoever…

She changed position on her seat, and leaned in towards him. “But you must miss seeing England after all this time. I mean… you haven’t bothered to change your accent,” she pointed out.

“Why should I? They love my accent here; they think it sounds more serious. Fuck knows why!” He turned to glance at her to add, “And no, I don’t normally miss England. One place is the same as another in the dark.”

“Do be serious!” she laughed at him. “Las Vegas looks nothing like anywhere else in the dark. Not even Southend-on-Sea comes close; I can’t comment on Blackpool because I’ve never been.”

“Don’t bother. It’s fucking boring,” he told her. “We went there when I was a kid and I hated every second.”

Ooh, he had finally mentioned something more personal. “Where did you like then? I think I liked Cornwall best, but then I always did like messing about in the sea,” she remarked.

He snorted a laugh. “You’re a long way from the fucking sea here, love. All there is around here is a sea of gambling misery.”

She placed a soft hand on his shoulder, and began to rub it gently, working her way up to his neck. “Then why stay if that’s how you feel? It must be incredibly depressing,” she asked in a calm voice.

“Why?” He sniffed derisively as he thought. “I’ve got my work. It’s been quite successful; I can have anything I want.”

“But it’s not enough,” she said, and bit her lip as a frown reappeared on his face. “Sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologise,” he ordered her, and thumped the steering wheel. “Donna, I…”

“I’ll wait until you want to tell me, Peter.” She ran her fingers through his hair to sooth his temper. It was amazing how volatile he was; so much hurt hidden away and denied beneath his brash surface. Why did no one bother to look? You have to be prepared to look beyond the exterior, she supposed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Peter had dropped her off at the hotel so that he could go and get ready for his evening show. It had worried her that he had got quieter and quieter as they reached the end of their journey; so she had readily agreed to meet him after the show.

“I knew it! You’ve got black satin sheets,” Donna told him with glee. “You are _such_ a cliché.”

“I like the colour black,” he defended himself. “Don’t fucking start on me!”

“No!” she pretended to gasp in surprise. “You don’t like black, do you? You’ll be telling me next that you collect weird animal stuff or weapons.”

“You cheeky bitch!” he exclaimed, and reached out to grab hold of her. “Just for that I’m going to punish you.”

He shoved her down onto the bed and pinned her giggling form beneath him. “What are you going to do to me?” she asked once her giggles stopped.

“Fuck you,” he told her bluntly. “And you are going to _love_ it!”

“I won’t if you keep all that crap on,” she said testily, pointing at his face. “You look like someone’s dead uncle. I want my emo boy back.”

“I forgot about all this,” he confessed, and started to peel off the articles that made up his stage persona.

“Do your teeth come out and your false eye?” she asked mischievously.

“You are fucking asking for it,” he pretended to growl at her. “What have you been doing since I left you?”

Should she be totally honest, or should she feed his bruised ego? She went for the latter. “I’ve been thinking of you,” she said as breathily as she could. “Thinking what you have done to me so far; thinking of what you _will_ do to me.” All the time she caressed his torso, feeling his skin beneath her tender touch; yearning to release the inner Peter that no one else seemed to find. She knew she could that; it was something she could sense within him.

He cradled her head between his hands in wonder. “Oh what you do to me, Donna. You make me want so much,” he admitted, ghosting his lips over her mouth.

“Then take it,” she answered, and he immediately kissed her deeply. 

He kissed her as though he would never kiss her again; as though his life depended on it. Like a drowning man gasping for air, he devoured her mouth; trying to drain all the life out of her body. And she kissed him back with as much hunger. Their time together was going to be extremely brief. Another whole day and then she’d be back on a plane heading for home. Back to boring normality filled with endless tedious jobs, a nagging mother, and a yearning for adventure.

They stripped each other quickly, wanting such minor details out of the way. They were already physically prepared to make love together; and surprisingly that was what they achieved this time. It wasn’t just sex, but an intimate connection, as they caressed, kissed and moved as one.

Peter had learned to slow down for her instead of taking what he had thought he needed. Drawing out groans, mewls and squeals from her body was both fascinating and intoxicating. And she had reciprocated with such delight. They even had time to try out several positions! She was one cheeky minx, but when she took him deep within her it was… fucking brilliant! And he told so as they made that bed rock. Her panting below him, her hair fanned out around her like a blazing sun, a sheen of sweat on her skin, was mesmerising; and the fact she encouraged him to thrust wildly as she yelled out his name, would have been glorious as it was. But he suddenly realised she was more than that to him; more than anything anyone had ever been.

As he keened and spurt into her willing body that had clenched so seductively around him, he heard himself force out the question, “Marry me?!” It was only when his body had calmed down that he was able to take in the fact she hadn’t answered him. “Don’t you want to fucking marry me?” he asked hesitantly.

Donna stroked his face, overwhelmed by various emotions, but wanting to deal with this fairly and properly. “I’d like nothing more right this second; but I also know this is a holiday love affair that will diminish to nothing once I get home and you’ve moved on to the next woman.”

“No, it doesn’t have to be like that. We could go to a chapel down the road, marry, fuck like bunnies some more; and you could stay with me here,” he said tenderly.

“Marry in haste, repent at leisure,” she quoted at him. “Let’s see how we cope without each other for a while, and if we can’t, I’ll fly back. Simple as that.”

They shared a smile. “Yes, fucking simple,” he agreed. “I could even try and get some time off and fly over to meet your mum.”

“Now don’t get too hasty,” she playfully warned him. “We don’t want to totally spoil things.”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

They were eating brunch the following day together, when Peter found himself looking at Donna enjoying the pancakes they had made together and realising that if he wasn’t careful this might be the only time they’d do such a thing. “Donna? Do you mind helping me test out a new trick?” he asked her.

“As long as it doesn’t involve having knives thrown at me or having a dime shot out of my hand I might consider it,” she answered.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that. I want to try out a little power of suggestion,” he said.

“You mean something like giving me a word so that I cluck like a chicken, or spontaneously orgasm no matter what I do?” she queried.

He reached over to grasp her hand. “I promise you won’t cluck like a chicken; but I can add in the orgasm stuff if you want.”

She swatted his arm. “You cheeky git! I wouldn’t put it passed you.”

“I won’t do anything harmful or disrespectful. You know I think too much of you to do that. I just want to know if I can do a spot of hypnosis,” he told her smoothly. “You never know, it might be my ticket out of here if I ever need it. Think of all those celebrities who want to give up smoking, or their sex addiction.”

“In that case you’d better practise on yourself,” she inevitably retorted. To be honest, she was worried. He’d suddenly stopped using his favourite word, so either he was having to think extra carefully because he was lying, or he was unsure of what he was doing. She’d just temporarily turned down his marriage proposal so should she turn this request down too? Maybe not. “Okay, where do you want me?”

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Donna looked despondently at her mobile phone again. Peter hadn’t tried to call her, there was no text message; nothing. She sighed heavily. This was even worse than when she had thought he had deliberately stopped her finding the Doctor. For a brief moment she hadn’t even cared; and as she thought about that last day together she traced a finger over the ring he had given her.

The first week home she had heard from him constantly; and they had talked through plans for her to join him again in a couple of weeks. Then he started to rehearse a new part of the act, and she assumed it contained an equally new female member of his entourage. When Peter had told her he was rehearsing extra late the words had cut through her heart; and they’d had a massive argument. It wasn’t as if they’d never argued before, but this one had turned out to be quite final because he hadn’t returned her latest messages.

Her mother was right after all, and it had all been too good to be true to last longer than the holiday romance she had had when she was a teenager. 

Desperately needing a distraction from the pain in her heart, she switched on her computer and sought out the conspiracy website she sometimes looked at. Several members were discussing the latest diet pills being sold over the telephone, and how suspicious they were of the ‘astounding’ results. Hmm. Adipose Industries obviously needed to be investigated by someone, and she was the person to do it; so she joined in the discussion to gain more information.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Peter crawled into bed after the horror of his evening. He had been so close to death; so close to being part of all that he had abhorred for most of his life. He hadn’t felt so scared since he was first taken into care after his parents’ death.

After sleeping for a long time he woke thinking of Donna, wanting to confirm that he was still alive. Was this the adventure the Doctor had mentioned that time? He wondered that as he heard the dialling tone on his phone and then a strange beeping noise. He looked at his mobile phone in shock. What the fuck was going on? It was saying there was no such number!

Determined to get to the bottom of this, he searched through his papers and found Donna’s home phone number; and he agitatedly phoned it. He had never spoken to her mother or grandfather, so he wasn’t sure what she had told them about him or whether him calling would be welcomed. A friendly male voice answered the phone within seconds. “Hello!” Wilf queried the caller.

“Oh! Hello, I’m a friend of Donna’s and I’ve been trying to get hold of her but I can’t get through. Can you tell me if she is about, please?” Peter asked as pleasantly as he could.

“Sorry, lad, but Donna’s not around anymore. She has gone travelling with a friend of hers for a while. When she gets back with the Doctor I’ll tell her you called,” Wilf breezily replied. “Who shall I say rang?”

But Peter had dropped the phone in shock when Wilf had mentioned the Doctor. She had gone. She had finally left him, just as the Doctor said she would. Ignoring Wilf’s estranged voice calling out ‘Hello?’ into the room; Peter stumbled over to the bar. Deliberately ignoring the amber nectar he poured himself a large stiff drink of something green instead. That was as far away from ginger as he could get!

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

“What can I fucking do for you, Benny?” Peter demanded from the security guard who was desperately trying to catch his attention. If these idiots got this trick wrong more time someone would be scraping themselves off the wall!

“You said to let you know if she ever turned up at the front of house,” Benny mumbled apologetically. Nobody liked to risk upsetting Mr Vincent anymore, but he had to tell him this important piece of news.

“Who?” Peter spluttered in confusion. “Who the fuck are we talking about here?”

Benny gulped nervously. “She asked Tilly for the blue wedding special,” he explained. Well, he hoped he had explained it.

Peter blinked wildly in surprise at him, and then jumped off the stage as he started to run. “Where is she, Benny? Tell me exactly where she is!” he yelled back at Benny. 

“By the giant legs last time I heard!” Benny shouted back.

‘Please God, oh please God let it be her!’ Peter appealed to the heavens as he ran. As he ran he dodged people gasping in surprise at his appearance, the odd yell of “It’s Peter Vincent!”, because all he could think of was silently praying for good fortune.

He was out of breath by the time he had reached the giant legs, but there was no sign of her. Immediately his hopes nose-dived and his shoulders slumped; it had been a false alarm. Someone was going to pay for this and they’d pay dearly!

And then he heard someone shout, “Would you give me the blue wedding special?! What is wrong with you people?”

He turned, and there she was; accosting poor Tilly who was being given moral support by Jackson, the bouncer around here. There was no mistaking her; she was his Donna!

Taking three steps towards her, he heard her add, “Me and my husband have come all the bloody way here to get the blue wedding special, and I shall _have_ the blue wedding special!”

It had worked! His hypnotic suggestion had worked and he could almost sob with relief that it had. He had known it would probably take some time to work, but he had never guessed how much agony he would be in waiting for it to do so.

“Can I help?” he asked as he stepped up to her side.

Part of him died as she regarded him without a scrap of recognition. “And who might you be? Dracula’s younger brother?” she raged at him.

Oh dear! He wanted to laugh, but he knew that if he did so she was perfectly capable of walloping him hard. “I’m the person who will be able to give you your blue wedding special,” he replied as steadily as he could.

“You are?” she asked incredulously. 

“If you would come with me, we shall make all the necessary arrangements together,” he said, smiling at her. 

Tilly and Jackson were giving him ‘WTF?’ looks, but he didn’t care. All he could take in was the fact she had come back to him; healthy and whole, looking gorgeous in a really cheap dress. Not that he cared about that, but what had happened to her taste?

“What about my husband?” she asked, but she was already reaching out to take his arm; and she looked amazed that she was doing so.

“Don’t worry,” he soothed her. “He shall be dealt with in all good time.”

“Is this really her?” Tilly whispered to him, and he nodded his confirmation before leading Donna away.

“Are you having a good time in Las Vegas?” he asked her conversationally as he led her through the crowds of people. ‘Keep it light,’ he kept telling himself.

“I wasn’t up to this point,” Donna reluctantly admitted. “We landed this morning and I came straight here to ask for the blue wedding special.” She looked awfully bemused. “What exactly _is_ the blue wedding special?”

He patted her hand resting on his arm. “All will be explained in a minute once we gain some privacy,” he assured her.

“Are you okay? You’re trembling,” she eyed him with concern as she asked. “And you look really familiar… Do I know you?”

Finally they got to the staff door that led to his apartment, and he guided her out of the main throng and into the comparative silence. “Yes, you do, Donna,” he answered gently. “We first met a couple of years ago.”

“Did we?” she pondered, and stared right into his face. “And I’ll get my blue wedding special?”

“Yes,” he said softly. He then released his hold on her to open the door into his apartment. “Would you step this way, please,” he requested, and guided her through the hall to the main living area. She gasped as she took it in, but he was concentrating on getting her to exactly the right spot. Satisfied she was in the correct position, looking up at him expectantly, he uttered the words that should unlock her memory of him, “Here is the blue wedding special. Welcome my bride.”

Donna blinked a few times, wiped her eyes as a wave of dizziness almost overtook her, and then she looked at Peter; really looked at him. “Peter? Is that you?” she whispered.

A sob forced its way out of his chest. “Yes!” he confirmed brokenly. “It’s me!”

“But…” She swept her gaze around the apartment. “How did I get here? What happened? Why the hell are you crying? Oh my poor emo boy,” she crooned, instantly reaching for him and allowing him to rest his head on her shoulder. She rubbed comforting circles on his back. “I’m here. Don’t worry, I’m here,” she whispered next to his ear.

He hugged her for all he was worth. All the months and months of waiting for her melted away, and he was back where he wanted to be; safe within her arms. “I missed you,” he sobbed. “I missed you so much!”

“Peter… why am I wearing a wedding ring?” she suddenly asked him.

He pulled back to glance at the offending hand resting on his shoulder. “You got married. But don’t worry you didn’t do anything, so we can get it annulled,” he explained confidently.

“How do you know if I did anything or not?” she demanded to know. “I could have been a raging nymphomaniac!”

He smiled slowly as he couldn’t hold in his triumphant feelings. “I know because I didn’t let you.” He kissed her temple in consolation, before explaining more. “I have a confession, Donna. I hypnotised you and planted the suggestion that you wouldn’t want to have sex with any other man; and if you got married you’d come straight here asking for a blue wedding special.” 

“You tricked me! I knew you were up to something but that is low… How long has it been since I last had sex?” she fumed at him.

“It was for your sake, as well as mine,” he tried to convince her; but he suddenly panicked when he saw where she was focusing her angry attention. “No, don’t even considering smashing that fucking vase over my head!”

She fought his attempts to hold onto her hands, and lost. Still livid, she demanded to know, “But you stopped me fancying someone else properly! I loved, but I didn’t _love_. Why the hell did you do that?”

He looked sheepish as he admitted, “I couldn’t stand the thought of you with someone else.”

“Oh Peter! That almost sounds like… like you love me,” she said in awe. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard!”

“So fucking sue me! I won’t do it again,” he proclaimed.

“I ought to hate you,” she told him in a low menacing voice.

He risked pulling her nearer. “Then how about we go hate each other in the bedroom?” he whispered seductively.

**Author's Note:**

> And I realise at this point that I have loads more questions to answer! Damn! I’ll have to write another part now. :(


End file.
